


Breathe Out

by Odaigahara



Series: Tales from the Dark Side [4]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Adventure, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders is a Dark Side, Claiming Bites, Former Dark Side Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Power Imbalance, Pre-Canon, Pre-Episode: Accepting Anxiety, Relationship of Convenience, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2020-11-26 02:22:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20922578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odaigahara/pseuds/Odaigahara
Summary: Dark Sides don’t have friends, but they do have allies, and being alone makes you a target.Virgil wants to breathe easier. Deceit wants to influence Thomas more directly. It’s a relationship of convenience, a mutually beneficial arrangement and nothing more.Until it’s not.*Deceit’s eyes flashed with anger. He bared his teeth at the door- Virgil could hear hooting and jeering from the other side, Malice and the rest sticking around for the show- and turned to his captive with a hiss in his voice, even as he kept it down. “This is wonderful, really. Just what I planned when I stepped outside today! The absolutefirstthing I wanted was to get caught up in a situation with no easy out.””Join the fucking club, buddy, applications are always open,” Virgil snarled, desperately aware of just how little any fighting mattered. “I just wanted out of that closet!””And it’s my responsibility to get you out of your mistakes, is it?” Deceit snapped. “That’s my holy mission, handed down from on high?” He glared at the door again and stepped closer. Virgil scrambled back and tried to speak, but went quiet when Deceit held up a hand. “I don’t suppose you’re willing tohelp?”





	1. Out of the Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I physically cannot see Deceit as a bad guy. Weird and manipulative, yes. Basically a Disney villain? Also yes. But not evil. 
> 
> First Sanders Sides fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW at end of chapter.
> 
> Posting from my phone so may receive slight edits later. These edits should not change the plot so far.

Between the ruined carpet and the door was a tiny sliver of light, so faint it barely outlined the edges of the frame. Virgil hugged himself, gasping and weeping, curled so he could catch the hint of light and fresh air. The inside of the closet reeked of sweat and vomit, and he could taste bile on top of the blood from where he’d bitten his cheeks. He couldn’t stop trembling. His throat was hoarse from begging. 

Three days, he thought it had been three days, hadn’t he gotten boring enough already? Hadn’t they been entertained? The prank had _worked, _come on, please, it was funny, it had been funny, hadn’t it? Hadn’t they been laughing? Couldn’t they let him out now?

Maybe they’d forgotten him here. He shivered and squeezed his eyes shut, choking on the stench of old vomit and trying not to think of himself as a shriveled wreck, eaten down to skin and bone, just a skeleton in the closet and Thomas would be left with no _anxiety, _none at all. No one to keep him from walking into traffic. No one to shut his mouth at parties before he could put his foot in it, no one to remind him what people might be saying behind his back. No Anxiety, and maybe one day Malice or Rage would come back and open the door and find a mummified corpse scrunched up in the corner. 

_Please, please, please let me out, guys come on please don’t leave me here please don’t leave me don’t don’t please don’t leave-_

Virgil’s fingernails were torn and bloody from clawing at the door for so long. He had shoved his shoulder against it, pressing all his weight into the effort and attacking the hinges, but Malice had _done _something to it. It wouldn’t open. He wondered wildly if Malice had soundproofed it, too, making it so only he could hear Virgil begging, if that was part of the prank. 

They hadn’t had an easy time getting him into the closet. Virgil had spat and fought, lashing out with his limbs and any power he could scrounge up past the paralyzing terror, but it had been Rage and Malice and Jealousy all together, stronger and older, and Rage had slammed him into the closet so hard his shoulder had dislocated. He’d popped it back into place, but his whole shoulder was still a disaster zone of blood and bruises. Scratch that, his whole _body _was a disaster zone. He could feel his heartbeat pounding out from every injury, throbbing under his shaking fingers and somehow making him feel colder, like the blood was leaving the rest of his body. Hunger ate at him, too, but it was distant and vague compared to everything else. 

He spaced out for a while- he couldn’t tell how long- only rousing when he sensed Thomas getting comfortable in his surroundings or letting his guard down. Eventually he receded to sending bursts of anxiety like clockwork, brainpower draining as he tried to force out the dark and the smells and the pain and the incessant fear of what would happen when someone did find him, _what would they do if they found him like this, how would he get back to his room. _He kind of doubted Thomas was having a good night by then, but it was hard to care. He closed his eyes against the creeping dark, holding his breath so he wouldn’t start hyperventilating and send himself into another attack, and told himself firmly that the shadows weren’t getting closer, it was just his imagination.

The walls weren’t closing in. He was just in a closet, where he’d been for the past few days, and the only things in here were him and a couple of coat hangars. There wasn’t even anything weird (aside from him). He was fine. He was fine, he would be fine. Nothing- nothing was wrong.

The shadows moved outside of the door. Virgil quieted his hitching, near-silent sobs and went still, blood going cold. He wanted to get out- all he had to do was call out- but he couldn’t tell who was on the other side of the door. If it was Apathy he might get away if he could convince him to let him out in the first place, and Entitlement might do it if Virgil promised a favor. Most of the others- all of the others, really- only acted in their own interests, though, and Virgil couldn’t think of anyone else who might free him without expecting something in return. He ached, though, and every part of him was shivering, so he swallowed roughly and croaked out, “Who’s there?”

The light flickered again, and Virgil’s shoulders sagged. They’d gone past. That was- was a good thing, right? It meant no one else would go after him just then. There was no reason for his throat to feel thick, no reason to cry again or feel like he couldn’t breathe. 

The door slammed open, catching Virgil in the face and knocking him against the wall. He doubled over, head screaming and nose trickling blood, and shrieked when he looked up, throwing himself back against the wall again on pure reflex. The movement dragged a ragged breath out of him when it jostled his shoulder.

The Duke only grinned, crouched _way too close _and reeking of rotting food, and pressed a painful finger against his nose. “Boop,” he said with a manic grin. “Are we playing hide and seek? If I’d known this was a game, I would have brought a party! Or at least put on my party suit.” The dark side of creativity had a scruffy, barely-there mustache that encompassed about all the facial hair that teenaged Thomas could currently grow, and his eyes were dark-ringed and fever-bright. It was an even bet whether he would let Virgil out or shove a knife through his eye. Being so close to him made dark, terrifying thoughts rise up in Virgil’s mind, each detailing a different way this scenario could go, and he knew the Duke could see all of them. 

Virgil curled up further, guarding his weak spots, and said with all the venom he could muster, “Could you back up, please? No amount of deodorant can fix your breath, and I actually like being able to breathe.”

”Really? What if there’s fingers reaching down your throat? Would you like being able to breathe then?” The Duke crowded closer, thumb pressing at the edge of Virgil’s lips, and Virgil snapped and hissed, drawing himself up as big as he could manage. For a moment he thought the Duke would take that as an insult and retaliate, but he just raised a good-natured eyebrow and tsked, “Touchy, touchy. No wonder they locked you in here.” 

He stood and stepped back, not closing the door behind him or trapping them both in, and Virgil tentatively rose to his feet before his knees buckled out from under him. Fuck. He tried to get up again, but his legs wouldn’t cooperate, too shaky and weak, and this time when he fell he jarred his ribs and bit back a yelp. God, no, if he couldn’t get to his feet the Duke definitely would leave him here, letting him out because he was bored was one thing but actually _helping_ was another-

The Duke nudged his side with his foot, and Virgil bit the side of his cheek to keep himself from crying out at the twinge it sent through his ribs. “Oh, come now, Anxiety, what’s wrong? Cat devouring your tongue? Tell me the worst thing you can think of right now. Come on! Make it snappy.” A chorus of hallucinatory snaps rang through Virgil’s head, and he winced, but he saw the opening he was being given.

”Eating a spider leg by leg,” he tried, “and it reassembles itself in your stomach and starts chewing, until there’s a hole in your stomach lining and all the blood and acid spills out, and it uses that to loosen your organs and make a nest out of them to lay its eggs. You lie in bed thinking you have an ulcer and then your stomach starts swelling like a, a boil or something, and they start coming out through your skin until you’re punctured all over and deflated like a balloon. Loose skin inside out everywhere, hanging off the bed and dripping on the floor. And... then your grandma comes in and the spiders get her.”

”Hmmmm.” 

He quaked, wondering if that hadn’t been enough, but then the Duke grabbed him by the uninjured arm and dragged him up by the elbow. Virgil stumbled and fell against the older Side, inhaling the reek of week-old groceries and coughing violently. The Duke pulled him into the hallway and the sudden light- not much, not in the Dark Side, but more than in the closet- hurt his eyes. 

He squeezed them shut just as he heard footsteps coming down the hall and Malice’s petulant voice saying, “What the fuck, Duke, the fun was just starting! Put him back and we’ll let you join in, ‘kay, he screams like a little girl, you’ll like it.”

Virgil felt the Duke tense beside him and tried to pull away in a flurry of panic, to get away before the Duke changed his mind, but the grip on his arm only tightened. He looked up to Malice’s gleeful expression and Apathy’s sullen spark of interest and froze. He was fight or flight, but sometimes neither of those options was helpful. He was outnumbered, he couldn’t get loose-

“What’s this?” came another voice from behind him, sultry and smug, and Virgil drew back into himself as far as he could. "Malice and the Duke, having fun without me? I'm _shocked. _Look at how shocked I am." Deceit stepped around them and stopped next to the Duke, looking Virgil up and down like he was a piece of meat. "What are you even doing with Anxiety? He can't be interesting to play with." There was something in his tone, in his posture- Virgil watched him carefully, not sure if this was a chance to escape or a harbinger of worse to come- that didn't seem pleased. Was it because he thought Virgil wasn't worth it? Because he disliked Malice? Not that it was unusual to hate Malice, Malice was a dick, but... 

The Duke broke out in a giggle, high and cheery. He shoved Virgil into Deceit's chest, making him gasp and Deceit hiss. "Here you go, Dee-Dee, one fine Anxiety, slightly used! I _know _you've been asking for him." His voice went low at the end, _suggestive, _and Virgil turned to ice, terror filling his veins. He chanced a glance at Deceit- who'd apparently been _asking for him-_ and caught a glimpse of utter confusion before the mask of assurance returned.

"Already? My, Duke, you are as good as your word." He gripped Virgil's arm and turned him around, mismatched eyes boring into his face. His voice was a snarl when he added, "You've been causing a lot of _trouble _for me, Anxiety. Keeping Thomas too scared to open his mouth? Making him afraid of getting caught? Why, it's all so unnecessary! I know we could do much better work _together_."

Virgil didn't whimper. "I-I'm not so sure about that," he said, trying to edge out of the other side's grip. Deceit's fingers tightened warningly. _No, no, no- _"I mean, I'm literally _Anxiety. _I can't see how much use I'd be for lying."

Apathy snickered. "Don't think it's _lies _he wants you for."

"_Deceit_, we saw him first. You don't get to waltz in and ruin our fun," Malice said darkly, stalking forward. His lips curled back in a snarl. 

Deceit looked unbothered, even when Apathy and Jealousy sidled up from the other side, blocking all exits. Virgil, on the other hand, was so bothered he felt like passing out. "Should I remind you what happened last year around Christmastime, Malice? Or rather, should I remind Entitlement_?_ You know how touchy he is about _fairness."_

"You want me to cut your fucking _dick _off first?" Malice snarled, but he didn't come any closer. His eyes swept over Virgil almost contemplatively, and he finally said, "Fine. But we'd better _hear _whatever you do to him. It's no fun if they don't scream."

There was no way to make that sentence more ominous, and Virgil knew Malice hadn't even tried. His heart blocked his throat as Deceit rolled his eyes and yanked him forward, dragging him at a fast pace down the hall. He tripped, seeing other faces peer out at them and rising into a frenzy of panic, and by the time they reached Deceit's door he was trying desperately to pull away, begging the Duke with his eyes to help or distract him or _something. _The Duke only grinned and shrugged, entirely unrepentant; Deceit snapped at Malice and the rest, "Don't think I won't let you watch," and shoved Virgil into the room, locking the door behind him.

Virgil hit the ground hard and made a ragged sound at the force it sent through his injuries. It felt like Deceit floor to ceiling, so dense it was suffocating. He was a tiny blip of Anxiety in a sea of _enemy_, and he might as well have been drowning. Virgil scrabbled upright, trying to face his captor and touch _nothing_ at the same time, and swallowed a terrified whine when Deceit stepped closer. They may have had the same face and lanky, half-grown form, but that didn’t matter; they both knew who held the power here.

Deceit’s eyes flashed with anger. He bared his teeth at the door- Virgil could hear hooting and jeering from the other side, Malice and the rest sticking around for the show- and turned to his captive with a spitting hiss in his voice, even as he kept it down. “This is wonderful, really. Just what I planned when I stepped outside today! The absolute first thing I wanted was to get caught up in a situation with no easy out.”

”Join the fucking club, buddy, applications are always open,” Virgil snarled, desperately aware of just how little any fighting mattered. “I just wanted out of that closet!”

”And it’s my responsibility to get you out of your mistakes, is it?” Deceit snapped. “That’s my prerogative? My holy mission, handed down from on high?” He glared at the door again and stepped closer. Virgil scrambled back and tried to speak, but went quiet when Deceit held up a hand. “I don’t suppose you’re willing to _help_?”

”Don’t touch me,” Virgil whispered, acutely terrified of whatever _help_ might mean. The situation they were in was one where Deceit had to do _something_, even if he apparently hadn’t planned this, and that something had to be done to Virgil. The list of things that could make him scream like Malice wanted was very short and involved a lot of sharp objects. It also involved- “Seriously, please, I’m begging you, I’m not, I don’t, I don’t want-“

Deceit rolled his eyes so hard they should have popped out of his head and raised his voice. “You really think I’m going to spare you. You really think that a few pretty words could make me forget how much of a colossal fuck-up you are. You know what, I can’t believe you’re that stupid. I can’t believe I didn’t _teach_ you better.”

Virgil flinched and opened his mouth, preparing to defend himself from whatever Deceit thought he’d done, and heard his voice come out before he’d decided what to say. He stared incredulously at Deceit, who’d taken a few steps away and was flawlessly mimicking his stammer. “Dee, look, I really didn’t-“ A hitched breath, like he was babbling past his terror- “You know I’m just doing my job! It’s not like I meant to mess you up!”

“That’s funny. You seem to think that I care,” Deceit said darkly, and a sharp slap rang out in the empty space- from Deceit’s hands smacking together. He made a sound like Virgil being struck, a muffled cry, then slammed his own shoulder against the wall.

“Please,” Virgil’s voice warbled out of Deceit’s throat, “please-“ Another sound, muffled by Deceit’s sleeve over his mouth, and then a sharp yelp and a whining, fearful sob. Virgil hunched back at the too-familiar sound.

Deceit pressed himself back against the wall and screamed, even as his own voice echoed out from the walls like it was coming off his tongue, spitting false coddling and vicious, cutting taunts. “Just a sweet little angel, aren’t you? Such an _adorable_ thing, such a precious little morsel, you stupid little _freak_.” He spat the last like venom, even though it was hardly the worst of the insults, and sobbed out a whimper to follow it. 

"Please," came Virgil's voice, "Please. I promise I won't do it again." Deceit paused, flicking Virgil a glance like he wanted to make sure he hadn't moved, then said smooth and dark as oil, "Oh, honey. Don't you know I can always tell a lie?" A breathless, weighted pause, and then he screamed, so sudden that Virgil jumped and almost ran to him. Deceit warned him off with a glare and faded it to desperate, keening whimpers, like Virgil was overcome by pain. He could hear laughter at the other side of the door. 

It kept on like that, both of them aware that the others wouldn't leave without a show. Virgil went from sick terror to incredulity to shamed disgust while watching it, too aware of how Deceit had heard those sounds to mimic in the first place, then cycled slowly to being impressed and eventually amused. Deceit got _so into it. _He made sound effects, even for little things Malice probably wouldn't even notice, and whirled to different positions depending on who was "talking". He made the expressions that corresponded to whatever Virgil was supposed to be feeling, contorting his face in pain and terror and then switching on a dime to play the villain. At one point he snatched a piece of cloth from his bed and slashed it around his shoulders like the _Phantom of the Opera, _forcing Virgil to muffle his laughter in his hood. 

Deceit was literally roleplaying a torture session with Virgil as the victim, but Virgil felt the sharpest edges of his nerves melt away as he watched. He was going through all this effort when he could have just done everything to Virgil for real. Even as he pretended to cry almost silently, only little hitching breaths letting the audience know he was still alive- even as he leaned in close to the door and whispered horrible things into an imaginary ear- even as his room flared with power as Malice and the others were obviously _believing _him, making Virgil flinch from the sting of _different-_

He didn't shrink away when Deceit finally stalked up to him and waved a hand to close off the room completely. He just kept his eyes down to show he didn't want a fight and said, unable to help himself, "Dude, a cape? Really?"

"You'll forgive me for wanting a striking appearance," Deceit said acidly. "By the way, Anxiety? You totally don't owe me for that."

"Cool, thanks, I'll keep it in mind," Virgil said, fake-oblivious, and Deceit snarled. "Joking! I'm obviously joking. I- I know. Seriously." He shifted, not sure if he was allowed to get up. This was Deceit's domain, so his rules were king; Virgil wasn't going to risk putting a toe out of line. "But really, why the cape? It's not like anyone really cares about each others' appearances."

Deceit blinked, then smiled like a used car salesman. "It's for the real world, of course. I'd hate not to leave a lasting impression on Thomas." And then, smoother, "You're not one to talk, dressing like a refugee from a Good Charlotte concert."

"We shook it one time too many," Virgil deadpanned, and Deceit snorted like he was surprised with himself. The rest of the explanation caught up with him a second later. "Wait, the real world? You're joking, right?"

"My dear Anxiety!" Deceit gasped, putting a hand to his chest. "I _never _joke. I am always completely serious, without exception."

"Yeah, and I'm not useful to Thomas at _all," _Virgil said sarcastically, and then, suspicious: "That's a lie, right? You can tell that's a lie?"

Deceit ignored him, instead gesturing for attention with a flourish. "At the moment, there are only three Sides with any access to Thomas' conscious attention. Whatever influence you and I have, Anxiety, is entirely nullified by Logic, Morality, and Creativity. If Thomas is to be saved from self-destruction, some of us are going to have to step onto the playing field."

"If Malice or Rage gets into the real world, Thomas won't _have _to self-destruct," Virgil said, horrified at the thought. His chest tightened, thinking of Thomas face-to-face with someone like Insanity, someone who didn't care about anything but watching the world burn. "You seriously think that's better?"

"Sure, if _Rage or Malice _gets out. I was clearly talking about them." The look he leveled at Virgil made his point clear. "What was that you said? You're not useful to Thomas at all?"

"I meant that ironically," Virgil said. "You know I meant that ironically, right?"

"You sound certain of it, so who am I to argue?" Deceit gave an exaggerated shrug. "But consider this, Anxiety: the two of us out in the real world, toe to toe with the Light Sides. You could convince Thomas not to go to parties alone or ask out intimidating crushes. You could point out all the flaws in his plans in person. Wouldn't he be more likely to listen to you then?"

Virgil didn't mean to imagine the possibilities, but his brain had never been good at listening to him. If he could talk to Thomas in person- he could warn him before something really bad happened. He could lay out his rationale so even Logic couldn't refute him, and Thomas would have to stay home where it was safe, doing things that were _safe. _No risk of being drugged and waking up bound in someone's basement. No risk of falling for a prank, or getting locked in a closet, or having someone like Malice break his ribs because he liked to hear him scream. Virgil suddenly felt cold. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Fine," Deceit said, like it was a hardship. "But be sure to keep my words in mind. We could have more influence, you and I. We only have to reach out and take it." He held out a hand, and Virgil took it without thinking, pulling shakily to his feet. As soon as he put weight on his legs he collapsed completely, though, unable to make his muscles hold him up. _Shit_. 

"Sorry," he said to the ground. "Not sure I can, uh. Walk right now." Deceit huffed a sigh, and Virgil hunched into his shoulders. 

"Well, I appreciate how you're making my entire room smell like vomit," he said acerbically, and Virgil winced because hey, big surprise, he'd forgotten about that. Deceit grabbed his hand again and pulled him upright, letting him lean on him and walk for a few steps, then placed his hand firmly on the towel rack of his bathroom and wrinkled his nose. "I don't trust you to take things from here."

"I- really?" Virgil thought he might be able to get across the bathroom, at least to the shower; there was an actual chair in there that he thought Deceit might have summoned. It would be _so nice _to get all the grime and sweat off him, maybe rinse his hoodie off until he could snap it clean in his room... but this _wasn't_ his room. He didn't have any rights here. "I'd want to lock the door," he said cautiously. "If that's okay with you."

"The very thought of it disgusts me," Deceit said dryly, already turning away. He'd pulled out a book, Virgil realized to his relief. Deceit held up the cover when he noticed him looking: some philosopher guy's _Critique of Pure Reason. _"Immanuel Kant," he explained, and Virgil took a second to recognize it as a name. "Go on. Take a specific amount of time."

Virgil hoped that translated to "as long as you like," because he was not in a position to clean off quickly. He mumbled a thank you, still not sure he wasn't about to be jumped when his back was turned, and stumbled into the bathroom on unreliable legs. He'd been hurt when he was shoved in the closet in the first place, and then he'd spent three days attacking the walls and himself, without food, water, or power to help repair the damage. It was no wonder his legs felt like they were made of jelly. He just hoped he'd be able to get to his own room soon and raid his food stash.

He stripped off his hoodie and shirt, grimacing when the fabric stuck to his skin, and wriggled out of his jeans with another cautious look at the door. He _had _locked it, but it'd be easy to unlock with a flick of the hand. Easy for Deceit to slip in while Virgil was distracted, easy for him to block the door...

Virgil shuddered and staggered into the shower block, testing with a wave of his hand whether the glass was only opaque from one side. The water came out hot as soon as he turned it on, and for a moment he just basked in the warmth. He didn't know how long Deceit was actually willing to tolerate his presence, though, so he searched for shower supplies, finding a few hotel-style toiletries, and scrubbed himself down as fast as he could manage. His skin was red and smarting by the time he was done, some of the scratches from his frenzied panic open and bleeding, but his skin felt _clean_. It felt like something he could live in again. And now he apparently smelled like lavender honey, which he guessed could be worse.

He stepped out carefully, checking the door for any change, but it was still locked and there wasn't anyone else in the room. He bundled up his clothes and turned on the shower faucet to scrub them out, wrapping a towel around his waist in case Deceit came in after all. By the end of it, his clothes were clean enough, though too wet to wear, and he rose for a second to look for a blow dryer or something and caught sight of himself in the mirror. 

The bruising on his shoulder was bright red, deepening to the beginnings of purple, and all across his chest and sides was a mess of angry colors. Virgil hissed through his teeth when he prodded at them, cataloguing in his head: broken rib, broken rib, possibly just bruised, probably not internally bleeding... His face was starting to swell, too, hot on the side where Jealousy had punched him and throbbing at his touch. He had bags under his eyes that were darker than his eyeshadow sometimes got, and his ribs were showing too much for his comfort.

A realization crept up on him as he examined himself in the mirror, though, and it sent a bolt of cold lightning through his chest. None of these injuries were fresh enough. Deceit had acted out a whole scenario, but every one of Virgil's wounds was traceable to something Malice or Apathy had done a few days before. No fresh stab wounds, no new bruises, no cuts across his skin...

Virgil staggered back, slipping on the wet tile and slamming into the floor, and a moment later a knock came at the door. Virgil panicked and tried to get to his feet, calling, "Your stuff's fine, I didn't break anything!" He scrambled for the towel and tucked it against himself, watching the doorknob for any sign of movement, but he only heard a sigh and retreating footsteps. He waited a moment longer- he'd _just _gotten proof of Deceit's acting skills- but nothing happened. 

That left him free to panic over the reality of what he'd have to do. The odds of being waylaid in the halls before he reached his room would skyrocket after this, if only because word would spread and people would want to see the damage. He'd have to run, but he was barely able to stand right now. And if Malice caught up to him after all and noticed he wasn't any more hurt, Deceit would probably be after him too, just for the blow to his reputation. There would have to be something to prove Deceit's playacting. He'd- he'd have to- injure himself, somehow. Maybe not as much as Deceit had implied- God, he hoped not- but enough that it would be obvious to anyone that he'd been caught in a moment of weakness. Bile rose in his throat, but he forced it down. It was fine. He was fine. He just had to do this, convince Deceit that it would be enough, and get back to his room. Then he could eat as much as he wanted, curl up in bed with the door sealed, and watch actual _hours _of YouTube. He could watch _The Nightmare Before Christmas _if he wanted. He just had to do this first.

It was hard to breathe. Virgil struggled back into his clothes, leaving off the hoodie, and patted them dry as best he could with a towel. His hands shook. He shoved them into his pockets, shivering at the feel of wet fabric on his back, and crept out of the bathroom.

Deceit looked up from his book and said, one eyebrow raised, "You're not dripping all over the carpet."

"Sorry," Virgil said, stepping back awkwardly- but who cared, it was too late, and Deceit didn't seem that mad. He limped closer, not sure what to say, and blurted out, "Can I- do you expect me to leave soon? Can I leave soon?"

Deceit looked annoyed. "Have I actually given you the impression that you're a prisoner? Of course you should go."

Virgil sucked in a shaky breath. Now or never, come on, Anxiety. "I don't have any new injuries," he forced himself to say, eyes fixed on the ground. "And... my room's not too close to yours."

"You're saying someone will notice."

Virgil nodded and said, hating how his voice shook, "I thought- maybe, if, if you could just-" The weight on his chest kept him from finishing the sentence. He would- if Deceit actually- he _couldn't, _he couldn't, please, he _didn't know if he could stand it_ and suddenly he was on the floor, pushed up against the side of the bed and trying to shield his face- not his room, Deceit was _everywhere, _and there was a hand on his own, pressing down hard enough to bruise his knuckles. Virgil tried to pull away but couldn't, staring up at Deceit through unwelcome tears, and Deceit said, slow and deliberate:

"You are in my room, and you are going to follow my lead. You're going to breathe with me. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Do you understand?" Virgil tried to nod again. "Lovely. We're going to start now." Virgil copied him, slowly coming down from the panic that had gripped him, and when he was breathing normally Deceit let go of his hand and stepped back. 

"What was that?" Virgil asked when he found his voice again. 

"A breathing exercise. Nothing you could ever hope to find online from literally the first results that come up on Google. That would be too easy." Virgil glowered at him, but he filed the knowledge away in his head for later. "I believe you were going to suggest something?"

Suggest- _oh. _Another wash of fear swept Virgil's thoughts away, but he managed to get his feet under him and stumble a couple paces before dropping back to his knees. Deceit moved back, looking somewhere between uncertain and disgusted, and Virgil shook his head. "No, not- they have to." He stopped and took a deep breath. "You made it sound like you had some kind of, of claim on me. They might-" He worried at his lip. "Might want proof. So, I thought, since I don't actually want to get seriously injured..."

Deceit said carefully, “I really only wanted a favor, Anxiety.”

"I'd still owe you," Virgil said quickly, feeling sick. He hadn't thought he'd have to _beg. _He'd hoped Deceit would just go along with it and let him go. He hadn't thought- "It wouldn't- look, I might even owe you more, and you said you wanted to get into the real world like- like you might want me to go, too. So if you want to make sure I do what you say, I.” Oh, God.

“A mutually beneficial arrangement.” He sounded doubtful. 

“It’d help your reputation too,” Virgil said desperately. “I mean, you don’t do much with crowds, right? There’s not anyone specific you hang out with. And I’m not, not saying that I’d carry the same weight as Malice or someone, but maybe if you’re looking for a minion? I could be a minion.” Fuck, he sounded like such a weakling. Asking for help like a little kid, like a wimp, someone who couldn’t handle himself and probably didn’t deserve to exist anyway- but Thomas. If he could get Deceit’s protection, maybe he could do his job better. Maybe he could protect Thomas better.

Deceit regarded him. “You realize it would hurt.”

Virgil giggled hysterically. It’d hurt when Malice took one look at him and realized he’d been tricked, too. Virgil was pretty sure everything in life was pointless and meant to hurt. “Yeah, I know. I _really _do."

Deceit sank to his knees in front of him, and Virgil fought not to flinch back or hiss in warning. He'd asked for this. He _needed_ this, if he was going to get back relatively unscathed. A cool hand pulled the hem of his collar over his shoulder, making every bruise along the way smart, and held it there. "You'll need to have it showing," Deceit said, and Virgil shivered without meaning to, heart in his throat. He closed his eyes as another hand reached to grip the back of his neck and sucked in a sharp breath, already on edge; then he felt breath on his skin just between neck and shoulder, and-

Fangs sank into his flesh, and Virgil screamed. He lashed out with his power, trying instinctively to get away from the foreign influence, but arms wrapped around him- too many arms, how many did Deceit have- and held him in place as the other Side bit deeper. He couldn't escape the _wrongness _injected into him like venom, the hint of Deceit's power pushed into the wound where he had to _feel _it. It felt like being burned from the inside out. It felt so much worse than that, so much worse than dying.

He'd never had someone lay claim to him before. He'd _seen _it happen- Jealousy liked to leave a mark on whoever caught his eye- but he'd always avoided it himself, holing up in his room and only coming out when absolutely necessary, trying not to attract the wrong kind of attention. It wasn't even necessarily sexual, more like a mark of ownership that said _this one's mine- _but it was still humiliating. Still _violating. _Nothing any sane Side would invite from someone else. 

The fangs withdrew, and the hands let him go all at once. Virgil gasped raggedly and doubled over, trying to cover the injury, but it was too raw, too _obvious, _bleeding all over the carpet. He couldn't see past his tears, but he still sobbed when he thought he saw Deceit move closer and tried to hide his face. It took several excruciating minutes for his mind to trickle back to him, and even longer to stifle his wailing, hopeless keening. He couldn't look at Deceit- couldn't see the triumph in his face or the disgust, the prelude to hurting him _worse _because why wouldn't he? Virgil had _volunteered. _Virgil was _his._

He finally forced himself silent, still hitching in jagged, uneven breaths, and made himself look up. 

His heart stuttered in his chest. Deceit was crying, pupils pinpricks, focused on Virgil like he couldn't look away. His hands shook. For a long moment they just stared at each other, both of them obviously fucked up, before Virgil let out a hysterical giggle and said, “I swear to fuck if this doesn’t work,” almost hyperventilating.

“It should,” Deceit rasped. His smile seemed more than a little forced. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

Virgil couldn’t bring himself to smile back. He gave a weak little salute and stumbled out of the room, one hand on the wall and the other crushed against his shoulder, and no one he passed touched him. The wound reeked of Deceit, of his strength and his signature, as brutal as any of Jealousy's marks; even Rage, detouring to shoulder-check him in the hallway, stopped short and went pale at the sight of it.

Virgil made it to his room and collapsed on the bed, sealing it off from the outside with all the power he could gather.

Exhaustion dragged him under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify: this fic will involve the Light Sides and stuff, just not immediately.
> 
> TW: sort of implied past sexual assault, extreme bullying/abuse, a generally toxic culture in the Dark Side, depiction of a panic attack, violence, power imbalance, vomit mention. Lemme know if any of these are inaccurate or if something should be added.


	2. Can I Hang Around?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bite scarred over in a furious red, leaving indents where Deceit's fangs had torn out flesh and slowly fading to a deep pink.

The bite scarred over in a furious red, leaving indents where Deceit's fangs had torn out flesh and slowly fading to a deep pink. Virgil ran his fingers over it in the mirror, shivering at the touch to sensitive new skin, and felt the stain of foreign power like spreading ink. It had been two weeks since he'd gotten out of the closet, and in that time he'd only ventured out of his room three times, each time for food. He'd devoured over half of his stores and couldn't afford to lose any more. 

He'd also watched _The Nightmare Before Christmas _four times, browsed what felt like every corner of the Internet, and managed to cover his ribs with a flimsy layer of fat. Congratulations, Virgil, you no longer look like Jack Skellington. Now he just looked _generally _pathetic. 

At least the mark did its job. Every time he stepped out there would be someone waiting to catch him off-guard- Malice snickering to himself, or Insanity looking for a fun new game to play- but the hint of another Side's claim stopped them in their tracks. Virgil had been able to get to the refrigerator and dig around for anything he could eat within a day without having the food stolen or ruined. He'd even been able to watch TV for a little while, though he'd still jumped whenever someone walked past. Apparently the idea of Deceit laying claim to someone put everyone else on their toes. 

Virgil wasn't sure whether to feel sick or relieved.

The problem _was_, he hadn't actually been in Deceit's presence since he'd been bitten. Jealousy liked to keep his conquests close, draping himself over them and dragging them around like pets, but his marks tended to be functionally meaningless after about a month- on top of everything else, Jealousy was fickle. _Deceit's_ mark was already starting to lose its novelty. Malice was giving him considering looks, coming up too close or grabbing his arms hard enough to bruise, blocking doorways and asking, _what, is he tired of you already? Poor little kitten, you're about to lose your _protector. Rage had actually shoved him in the hall the last time he'd been out. Every time something like that happened and there were no consequences, word spread that Deceit had lost interest. If that word spread too far, Virgil could wave goodbye to his brief reprieve.

Sure, there might be plus sides to pretending the whole thing had never happened and going back to the way things were before- he'd be able to excise the scar, maybe bribe Entitlement or Apathy into telling him how they'd gotten rid of theirs, and he could feel at home in his own skin again- but they were nothing compared to the negatives. Virgil had _promised, _first of all. Breaking his word didn't rest easy, even though he knew most of the others wouldn't even care.

Besides that, he wasn't sure he could stand any more pranks or casual harassment. Sometimes he felt like he'd shatter into jagged pieces whenever Malice or Insanity passed too close to him, jittery certainty shooting through him that he was about to be hurt, and he still woke up screaming half the time from memories of one incident or another. If nothing else, it had a serious effect on his work with Thomas.

Since he'd been bitten, Virgil had been able to apply himself more strategically. He could feel for when Thomas was going to do something stupid and force him to stop, since he wasn't so distracted, and he'd been able to work through his backlog of social interactions and inform Thomas of all the things he'd actually screwed up when he thought he'd done fine. Virgil could feel the difference: Thomas was still anxious like he should be, but without the sporadic bursts of terror he was able to get sleep most nights and didn't spend his days in a haze of fear. He just second-guessed every conversation and didn't take unnecessary risks, instead. _Much _better.

But every time someone decided he'd be entertaining to screw with, he couldn't do his job. How much had he missed when he'd been stuck in the closet? When Insanity had basically stolen his thoughts for over a week and he'd woken up eating rotten fruit with the Duke? When Rage had camped out outside of his room and he'd run out of food stores, unable to pass because the sight of his face sent Rage into fits? However normal it was, he had to admit it was a massive relief to have it all _stop, _even for a bit.

So, if he wanted to keep the effects going... he had to go see Deceit. Probably that was what Deceit was waiting for him to decide- making him show willing, prove that he was gonna do the work. He'd better not keep him waiting any longer.

Virgil dragged on his hoodie and stepped warily out into the hallway, checking both ways in case someone was waiting to jump him, and made his way across the upper floor as quickly as possible. It was the middle of the night, but that didn't mean anything in the Dark Side; there were a few Sides sitting in front of the TV downstairs, shoving at each other whenever one tried to change the channel, and a couple more skulking in the hallways and waiting for victims. They sneered at Virgil as he went past, but didn't go after him.

Virgil thought there were about twenty of them, but it was hard to tell; they were much weaker individually than the Light Sides, or they'd have taken over already, and sometimes new ones would pop up or disappear as Thomas developed. He knew at least Brattiness and Dependence had ducked out as Thomas grew up- Jealousy and Entitlement had taken over their functions, and their rooms had gradually gone gray and empty before closing completely. There were a couple who never came out of their rooms who he thought were still around, though he couldn't be sure, and a few who occasionally popped up but faded fast, relics of possible avenues that the Light Sides ruthlessly pruned from Thomas' mind. Addiction was one of those; he'd been around for two years but wasted away, not eating and dying all the damn time because of it. Virgil wasn't even sure he remembered any of the others.

Sometimes he wondered what would happen if Thomas stopped being anxious through some outside force, like if he got a head injury or hooked on some kind of drug. Would he stop working because no one was listening? Would he grow gradually weaker, pushing desperately for someone to acknowledge him, for Thomas to hear him and stop what he was doing, even when he wasn't strong enough to get his message through? Maybe someone would discorporate him and he just wouldn't come back. Maybe he'd give up and duck out first.

He shuddered, ducking away from Avarice's covetous look at his hoodie (ugh) and detouring down another hallway to knock on Deceit's door. Anxiety gnawed at his heart when it didn't open immediately. _Had _Deceit gotten tired of him? He could have decided it was too much trouble being associated with him, could have already told Malice and the others and had them around the corner for an ambush, could be about to give the signal that would throw Virgil to the _wolves_-

The door clicked open, and Deceit's eyes narrowed at the pure relief that must have shown on Virgil's face. His expression shifted when he looked down to Virgil's collar, completely covering the scar, and when he looked up again there was something wary and uncertain in his eyes. "I don't want you to come in," he said, like even he wasn't sure whether it was a lie, and Virgil took a chance to slip under his arm and through the doorway before it slammed closed. 

Virgil's mouth went dry as soon as he was in. They stood in silence, staring at each other, before Virgil blurted out desperately, "Can I hang around here for a while?"

Deceit didn't look pleased, but he shrugged and said, "I have a strong opinion on it."

Virgil bit his lip, nodding to himself, and tried to think of something else to say. Deceit went back to his desk and sat, apparently done with conversation, and Virgil managed, "So who's Kant?"

"Never heard of him," Deceit said, blinking like he was surprised. He plucked a book from his shelves and tossed it at Virgil, who fumbled the catch and sat down on the floor to inspect the cover. Immanuel Kant was apparently a weirdly babyfaced old guy with the worst hairline Virgil had ever seen. He was also a philosopher. "He argues that one should never lie to anyone, for any reason. Not even if a known murderer asks for the location of a friend he wants to _kill_." He sat down at his desk, studying his nails, and added, "I completely agree with everything he proposes."

"Geez, talk about morbid," Virgil said sarcastically, because _really? _You couldn't catch Virgil reading all the articles about how he was terrible and shouldn't plague peoples' minds. Or, well, you could, but he had a good reason for it. _He_ had to remind himself what he was for. "Planning to duck out anytime soon?"

Deceit rolled his eyes. "Obviously. That's why I never outlined an _entire plan _to you on the subject of gaining more power and then took steps to make that plan happen."

"Yeah, about that," Virgil said, frowning, "I know I agreed to follow your lead- and I'm _not _backing out, okay, I just- I'm not so sure it's a good idea. The Light Sides pretty much have a monopoly on talking to him. How are we supposed to get past that?" _We, _because when Deceit said jump, Virgil had to ask how high. The protection was worth it. It was fine, it was _worth it-_

Something flickered, and the room morphed into a stage. Virgil yelped and jumped to his feet, tripping into the curtains behind him, and looked up. "Gah! What!"

An unfamiliar Side raised an eyebrow at him, dressed in spotless white and taller than him by a few inches. His skin glowed with power. "What? Is something wrong?"

"Don't _do _that," Virgil said, pulling himself up. His heart was pounding in his throat. "Is that supposed to be Creativity?"

Deceit paused like he was thinking on it. "_No."_ He flicked his eyes over Virgil's disheveled appearance and said,_ "__Wonderful_ footwork, by the way. It really brings out your natural grace."

"Yeah, yeah, rub it in, why don't you." Virgil threw caution to the wind and stalked around to inspect the disguise, eyebrows rising. It was... weirdly smooth, actually. If he hadn't known it was Deceit, the glamour of power would've had him convinced. "Wow, you're really good at this." 

"This is all I have to offer," Deceit said dryly, and suddenly his whole manner changed: his eyes went bright with resolve, shoulders straight like he thought he could carry the room, and he turned a hopeful look to Virgil, blushing slightly like he hadn't expected the compliment. "And of course, I-" He seemed to stumble over the tone, bizarrely rich with emotions- "I'm a truly inspiring actor. It's just one of the many things that makes me so good at my job."

"Does he _actually_ talk like that?"

"Alluring, isn't it?" Deceit said, dropping back into his normal tone, and Virgil snickered. "Certainly not like he's too full of himself to function."

"Be fair," Virgil said. "He has to weigh himself down with _something,_ or his ego will carry him away like a balloon."

Deceit looked pleasantly surprised. He smirked. "Careful. I'd almost think you don't like him."

Virgil shrugged, feeling a burst of self-consciousness. "I haven't met him or anything, it's just- he's always dragging Thomas into trouble, you know? Every time I try to get him to play it _safe_, maybe stay home or something, Creativity's on the other end pushing him to find his _true love _or embarrass himself onstage. Nothing good can come of putting yourself out there just to get shot down."

Deceit summoned a pair of chairs around a little prop table and motioned to Virgil to sit; he did, oddly touched that Deceit would let him get comfortable in his domain, and Deceit said, "Of course, that is _always_ true without exception. Isn't it?"

"Well, no," Virgil said. "But like, is anything always true? How do we know this isn't all just a simulation by some alien race, meant to make us feel like life has meaning when really we're just ants in an ant farm? Maybe everything is pointless."

Creativity's face looked strange with Deceit's self-satisfied expression, but he made it work. Deceit leaned forward, propping his chin on a fist, and said, "So you don't think an assertion can be absolutely true?" 

"I mean- no, I guess? I can't think of any."

"Try," Deceit suggested. Virgil got the feeling he was enjoying this.

Welp. Who was Virgil to deny him, when he hadn't denied him anything else? Virgil said uncertainly, "Losing a limb is always bad."

"But amputation can sometimes save peoples' lives," Deceit said at once, faux-concerned like he thought Virgil was about to make Thomas die to avoid losing a finger. "Just think of sepsis, or gangrene."

"Whose side are you _on?_" Virgil asked, suddenly irritated. "I thought you were arguing that some phrases _can _be absolute."

Deceit put a hand to his uniformed chest. "I can't play devil's advocate? But _Anxiety, _I'm basically the snake in the garden. Offering the apple of knowledge and self-determination to Thomas. Letting him take a bite. Setting him _free."_

Snort. "How's that working out for you?"

"_Very_ well." Deceit settled back and steepled his fingers, expectant.

Virgil rolled his eyes. "Right. How about this: it's always a bad sign if someone tells you you're pretty when you cry." Fuck, did he have first-hand knowledge of _that _little tidbit.

Deceit leaned back in his chair, and Virgil was struck anew by how _weird _it was to talk to him while he looked like a Light Side. He kept expecting to be struck down or driven from sight, but instead Deceit-as-Creativity said thoughtfully, "But consider whether their bad intentions toward youserve your _own_ interests."

What? The rest of Virgil's trepidation melted away and was replaced by scorn, because that was just _dumb_. "Nope. It's still a red flag if they say that. Even if you _want_ them to creep on you for some reason, that doesn't make them being creepy _good."_

"Hear me out." Deceit held up his palm like he was quieting an imaginary audience. The stage lights came on, bathing him in blinding white, and Virgil hissed in surprise. "Let's say you're walking down the street-"

"Can't relate."

"_Quiet_. Let's say you're a master thief and conman, walking down the _street_-" Deceit leveled a glare at Virgil- "and you see someone looking at you like, oh, _Jealousy _used to look at Impulsivity." Virgil grimaced. "See, you know what I mean. But you're a master thief! And you happen to notice that, hm, he's sure carrying a lot on his person." Deceit waved a hand, and a faint figure appeared at the other end of the stage, dressed in a top hat and suit.

"I'm robbing the Monopoly Man?"

Deceit scoffed and changed it to a stuck-up figure wearing what looked like half of Hot Topic. Virgil leaned forward in interest. "_Anyway. _There are plenty of people in the street, but he's still eyeing you. So you purposefully divert yourself to a less-populated area, and he follows you. _Threatens _you. Tries to act intimidating, perhaps. And you make yourself cry like you're scared, luring him in and making yourself look like an easy target. He comes up close, tells you you're pretty when you cry, and _wham!" _Virgil jumped. "You knock him out and rob his unconscious body."

"You know, I feel like having to make up a really specific scenario to prove your point kind of just shows how weak it is." 

Deceit rolled his eyes. "My _point _is, nothing is purely bad so long as it can serve your interests. The situation I outlined only contains bad signs if you're in any danger- but you would have gotten out unharmed. _Your_ lot would have _improved_."

Virgil crossed his arms and slumped back into the chair. "Yeah, okay, _no_. _Danger_ means there's a lot of risk. It doesn't only mean that if whatever you're risking happens. That's not how probability _works_."

"But there's risk inherent in everything. That hardly means everything is full of bad signs."

Virgil threw his arms up. "Of course it does! That's the point! Look, you can't keep arguing about this like it doesn't make sense to you- I'm the one making Thomas lie about his sexuality in the first place. Sure, he might be accepted if he comes out, but he also might lose friends. Are we going to risk that? We _shouldn't_."

Deceit glared. "Be that as it _may_," he said darkly. "I'd totally not prefer it if you didn't tell me what I can or cannot do." Virgil scoffed, and Deceit hissed a warning, _bared his fangs_-

-and suddenly Virgil was on the floor, heart battering his ribs and unable to breathe. He heard rather than saw Deceit falter, confused, but it was hard to register on anything but the shallowest level; he could feel those fangs in his shoulder, tearing and _trapping _and _too close let me go let me go, _he had to get out, he had to run but he couldn't, this wasn't his room, he'd waltzed right into the viper's lair and _Deceit was coming closer_-

He pushed himself back and felt his shoulders hit a piece of furniture; Deceit's room was back as it had been, garish colors and all, and its inhabitant was standing over him with his arms crossed, eyes unreadable. Virgil cringed back. Stupid, stupid, he'd gotten so distracted by the conversation that he'd forgotten why he was here, forgotten what he had to _do, _and if Deceit washed his hands of him that was one thing but what if he didn't, what would he want Virgil to _do_? He'd just ruined a whole conversation, would he want Virgil to make it up to him? Was he _bored _now, what would he- what if he-

Virgil didn't bother standing again, only inched away from the furniture and kept to the floor, trying to stop himself from trembling. He didn't know how he'd gotten so _comfortable, _even for a little bit. Was that what Deceit's room did? Did it make people more likely to believe lies, more likely to tell themselves whatever they wanted to hear? He'd been telling himself that maybe Deceit wasn't so bad, maybe they could be real allies, but how much of that had been him and how much had been the room? It could have gotten in his head and made him forget all the power he _didn't have _in this relationship. It could have brought his guard down. It _had _brought his guard down.

Fuck. _Fuck, _he'd thought for a second that he was _okay. _But he _wasn't. _Deceit was going to tear him apart for getting comfortable, for breaking up the illusion, for daring to treat him as an equal-

"Would you _stop that?" _Deceit snarled, and Virgil's thoughts stuttered to a terrified halt. "It's not as if I'm going to bite you _again."_

"You _could," _Virgil muttered just to be contradictory, then felt another spike of dread. "Wait, I mean-"

"Anxiety, _please," _Deceit sighed. "You seem to be under the impression that I'm as brutish and short-sighted as Rage. But _I _know that there are smarter ways of getting what I want." 

"You literally _bit me_ to get me to do what you want," Virgil blurted out, because his self-preservation had apparently jumped off a bridge.

"You _didn't _literally ask."

Virgil conceded the point. "So you're-" why was he even bringing this _up_\- "I mean. You're not mad?"

The corner of Deceit's mouth twitched downward. "Let's keep talking about this," he said warningly, and Virgil blinked. Right. 

"I'm not willing to let this go," came out of his mouth without his permission, and he froze. What the fuck, that was _not_ what he meant to say. Deceit didn't look surprised, though, only plucked another book off his shelf and tossed it in Virgil's direction.

The anxious Side caught it and blinked at the cover. Not Immanuel Kant this time, but someone else with a sour expression. _H.L. Mencken._

"You'll be reading it _here, _of course. It's not as if your face is starting to show scales." Virgil startled, reaching a hand up to feel his cheek, and felt a series of smooth bumps trailing down from his eye. The unfamiliar texture sent a queasy shiver through him. "Soon you'll be just as enamored of falsehoods as I am."

Virgil nodded and rose to his feet, letting Deceit catch his arm before he moved anywhere. He offered his wrist- somewhere obvious, somewhere _showy- _and Deceit seemed to understand; he dug his nails into the skin until it broke and bled, sending thin trickles of red down Virgil's fingers, and stepped back with a bob of his head when Virgil winced. _There. _Proof of ownership. He wished it felt better than it did. 

Relative safety and room to do his best for Thomas; what wasn't to love? But his heart stammered with a pitiful cocktail of humiliation and shame. It was one thing to be a weak Side, but to sell himself out like this- when he wasn't even sure of the details of what would be_ demanded _of him- He met Deceit's eyes, horribly aware of what his expression must be, and Deceit said with the faintest of scowls, "Be sure to have read that before we next meet. If we're to avoid each other completely for as long as possible, I at least want to be able to make _conversation _while we do it."

"I _won't_ make you watch _The Black Cauldron,_" Virgil promised gravely, and Deceit's look of distaste washed away some of his fears. 

"I look forwardto it," the other Side said with a light sneer. "_Do _have a good day, Anxiety."

A dismissal if Virgil had ever heard one. He stepped toward the door, checking back to make sure Deceit wasn't about to stop him or change his mind about letting him out. "Seeya." 

The last thing he saw before he left was Deceit, rolling his eyes; but he couldn't help but notice that the other Side's face had brightened just slightly when Virgil met his gaze.


	3. Intrusive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They fell into a rhythm as Thomas navigated the last two years of high school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for a lil bit of disturbing imagery.

They fell into a rhythm as Thomas navigated the last two years of high school. Virgil spent most of his days in his room, still only coming out when it was absolutely necessary, but _necessary_ became seeing Deceit instead of just food and the occasional favor owed. He visited Deceit in his room at least once a week, gradually allowing himself to sit on the furniture and browse the shelves; and they talked about history and philosophy, which for some reason Deceit really loved, and Disney villains, who they could at least agree were usually better than the heroes.

The other Dark Sides didn't leave Virgil alone completely. The only difference- a substantial difference, especially because a lone target was much more convenient to torture- was that any Side who hurt Virgil had to intend to challenge Deceit along with him. They made an effective team, Deceit coming to Virgil's defense to preserve his own reputation and Virgil carrying out favors and gathering blackmail material in return, growing Deceit's power base. Sides started flicking their eyes behind Virgil when he entered a room, just to see if Deceit was with him; sometimes they even gave him messages meant for Deceit, apparently deciding that their alliance was permanent enough to be noteworthy.

Their power grew in spurts. Thomas was still convincing himself that he liked girls, and between the denial and his repression of the other Dark Sides, Deceit had his hands full. Virgil, meanwhile, took slow hold of their host's mind, telling him all the things he had to hear so he'd be safe: don't leave your drink at that party, don't ask her out or she'll humiliate you in public, don't mention you like cartoons or they'll think you're immature. He went so well with Deceit it was ridiculous- Thomas was scared to know some things, scared to reveal them, and for good reason- so he hid them in his mind and pretended they didn't exist. Virgil kind of missed talking to people about cartoons and some of the other things Thomas had left behind, but he consoled himself that it was better this way. The alternative was too horrible to contemplate.

Thomas, drugged and scared at a party while a stranger led him away. Thomas crying silently in the school bathroom so people wouldn't hear how affected he was. Thomas ostracized, Thomas frightened, Thomas _dead_-

So many possible scenarios played out in Virgil's head whenever he thought about them, and he _always_ thought about them. That was his job.

Really, he shouldn't have been surprised when Deceit brought up the plan again.

"No. No way," Virgil said emphatically. "There's no guarantee the Light Sides won't be there. I am _not_ getting killed in front of Thomas."

"Why not?" Deceit asked, looking up from studying his nails. "That would certainly make him more anxious. He might even start to distrust the other sides. He might start to pity you. Tolerate you, _trust_ you..."

"_You_ be me and get run through, then," Virgil said, crossing his arms. "Unless you think getting stabbed by Creativity is _distasteful_."

"I relish the thought."

"I mean, I guess you could be someone else?" Virgil hazarded, not wanting to be unhelpful. "Like, I dunno, tie up Logic and shove him in a closet, be him for a few hours." The thought made Virgil kind of sick. Not that he had any love lost for a Light Side, but- what if no one found him in time? Would he be scared? Would he cry and wonder which of the other Lights had betrayed him? Did Virgil _care_? "Or just," he said, fumbling his words, "be... Logic? Thomas probably wouldn't try to summon him if he thought he was already there."

Deceit closed his mismatched eyes and concentrated, and the room flowed into a cleaner version of the common room- what Thomas's living room actually looked like. Virgil startled, then glowered. "That's a bad idea. Certainly not something we should practice."

"You realize I've never _met_ Logic," Virgil pointed out, but it was too late: Deceit had flickered out, replaced by a stuffy-looking Side in a dress shirt and dark necktie, and he was regarding Virgil like he thought he was a moron.

"What- no. Don't be ridiculous. Of course you've met me, you're meeting me right now. That's how meeting people _works_."

"Am I myself in this scene or someone who's never met Logic? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I'm both, you know. Since this _isn't useful _unless I know what to look for."

'Logic' pinched the bridge of his nose. "Anxiety, _please. _Try to focus."

"How do _you_ know what Logic acts like, anyway?" Virgil asked suspiciously. "Don't tell me you've met him."

Deceit shrugged. "Certainly not as myself."

Virgil took that in, nerves ratcheting up, and asked, "Who, um. Who were...?”

Deceit eyed him. “Who do you _think?” _He flickered and for a second he was Virgil, dark-eyed and dark-clothed, before resuming his usual eye-searing appearance. “I’m Deceit. It’s not as if it would be conducive to my plan to appear as myself. It would arguably be _counter-_productive.”

Virgil felt something dark and angry rise up in him, almost betrayed, but he forced it down. It was Deceit’s plan that he was following. He didn’t actually have the right to get angry. “So you appeared as me instead? What the _fuck_, Dee, that’s an entire first impression I’m going to have to ad-lib now, what am I— this is a disaster, I can already tell, I’m going to appear and Creativity will stab me because of something you said- did you even use my _personality_?" Anxiety clenched tight in his chest, constricting his lungs and stopping up his throat. 

“I... _didn’t_ act as you to best of my ability,” Deceit said, frowning. “Nor did I take as short a time as possible in the real world.” Virgil glared, seething, and Deceit added with a roll of his eyes, “I can’t imagine why you’re so upset, Anxiety. The most they saw of you was a single comment and your general presence. I was only conditioning Thomas to the possibility of your future appearance.”

Virgil resisted the urge to hiss. “I could have done that _myself_.”

"Without making a mess of things? You'll forgive me if I didn't want to leave that to chance," Deceit snapped. Virgil gritted his teeth. 

"You think I can't do my job?"

"I think that you tend to _panic_ at the simplest things," Deceit said. "How was I to know you wouldn't blurt something out and get yourself banned? You said yourself that you preferred not to be run through by Creativity. I simply made it so I was the one who took the risk."

"_Panic_\- give me one example. _One_ example where I freaked out at nothing-"

"Oh, yes, you totally didn't trip in the hallway last week and have a panic attack," Deceit said sarcastically.

"Because the last time I did that Irrationality _broke my wrist!_"

"Thomas watched _The Exorcist _and you hid in your room for a week," Deceit accused, and okay, Virgil didn't have much of an excuse for that one. "_Right. _As I was saying," and he pushed up his glasses, _Jesus. _"if we are going to make this plan work, we'll need to practice. I've taken the liberty of designing a comprehensive schedule-"

"Tell me you're lying," Virgil interrupted, aghast, and Deceit's eye flashed yellow in a half-grin before he resumed character.

"Which will allow us to efficiently cover all the necessary Sides and interactions." 'Logic' shut his binder and dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Or rather, since that's ridiculous, we'll learn in the field." He put on a tired expression. "I _totally_ haven't found myself owing Remus a favor."

*

Virgil was still mad, but it cooled into nice, familiar trepidation when they entered the Duke's room. Deceit hung out with Remus much more than Virgil did, because Virgil wasn't willing to risk his sanity for the sake of some broader scheme, so he had a standing invitation; Virgil mostly lurked behind him and tried not to draw too much attention to himself.

No luck there; the Duke gravitated to him as soon as he walked in, throwing a rancid arm around his shoulders. "Anxiety! How nice to see you, it's been _so long. _Wanna watch me eat a live salamander?"

"That is literally the last thing I ever want to see, up to and _including_ my own inevitable demise," Virgil snapped, trying to tug himself loose, but the Duke just wrapped around him like a smelly octopus. Deceit rolled his eyes and tapped Remus on the shoulder.

"I thought you had something you wanted from us?" he drawled, looking way too amused_, _and the Duke let go of Virgil to pat the top of Deceit's hat. Deceit tolerated it, looking a lot like a cat indulging a gruesome, unruly kitten. A zombie kitten. Who wasn't even _cute_.

Virgil hated the Duke _so much. _And now he was- yep, actually eating a live salamander, just chomping it in half like a chocolate bar and swallowing the wriggly bits, and Virgil swore he was going to be sick. "Please, just get to the _point_," he gritted out, because five more seconds in this hellhole of a room would be too many.

The Duke's room had garbage strewn all over his bedroom, lights that only half-worked and a persistent smell of rotting food that Virgil just knew was going to cling to his hoodie. There were ambiguous splotches and stains on the wall, dripping onto the dustiest, grimiest floor that Virgil had ever seen, and he could have sworn he saw live animals scrounging around in the corners. If they had all been real, the CDC would have been called in to investigate the host of new pathogens that the Duke's room generated; even as a mental construct it made Virgil want to crawl out of his skin and send it to the dry cleaner's. He flipped up his hood and stuffed his hands in his pockets, determined to have as little contact with the filth as possible, while Deceit stood carefully in the middle of the room and heard Remus out.

Virgil smirked; Deceit would be assiduously cleaning everything for like an hour after this, Virgil could already tell. He _hated_ when things were messy.

"He's locked me out completely," the Duke was complaining, eyes wandering from Deceit's face to the wall to the worms bubbling up in his hands. "Me, his own brother! And I only wanted to make things a little more interesting, you know? So I'd like a way back in."

"A way back into the Imagination," Deceit repeated with a faint frown. "I _don't_ suppose we can manage that, can we, Anxiety?"

"Depends," Virgil called out, wanting to slump against the wall but _not _wanting slime all down his back. "How _stupid_ of a plan are we using here?"

"You're supportive today," Deceit drawled, and Virgil blew a raspberry at him. Hecould try checking in before he impersonated Virgil in front of strangers next time, how about _that_.

"Has he locked the entrances to every one of us or just the Duke?" Virgil tried anyway, because now he was kind of curious, and Deceit blinked.

"That's a terrible question. Well, Remus? Any idea?" They waited patiently for Remus to finish constructing his worms into a single larger worm, before Deceit cleared his throat and the other Side glanced up.

"Mmm, probably just me. My dear brother won't anticipate me with _friends_." Virgil grimaced- not the word he would've used- and Remus winked at him before returning to his sculpture, humming. "Nobody likes me, everybody hates me- I know what _I'm _doing next!"

"I certainly haven't noticed a peculiar fascination with putting things in your mouth lately," Deceit said, eyeing the worms.

Remus waggled his eyebrows. "Oh, _haven't_ you?"

"For the love of everything edgy could we _please get going," _Virgil blurted out, because the last thing he needed was whatever the fuck Remus meant by that comment. Blowjobs? Autocannibalism? The possibilities were endless, and Virgil had never been less curious about a subject. Remus' room was making him picture everything in grotesque detail, though, and they'd only been there for five minutes. Any longer and Virgil might start screaming. "_Deceit_, seriously, anxiety and intrusive thoughts don't go well together."

"If you insist," Deceit sighed, and Virgil hissed at him. "Remus, if you could please show us your entrance? To the_ Imagination," _he added hurriedly, but Remus was already taking off his pants. "You- _don't_ put those back on-"

Virgil closed his eyes and focused on breathing in a calming pattern. "I hate all of you," he gritted out, tightening his hoodie over his head. "Can you tell how true that is, Dee? Because I am distilling so much truth into that one statement that you should be repelled for fifty yards like a _restraining order, _which incidentally is what I wish I had against this **room right now!**"

A restraining order, sure, but that didn't stop some people. Some people stalked you and broke into your house and dragged you out from under the bed kicking and screaming, handcuffed you to a table and got out the _knives_, so sharp they broke through skin like air and rent flesh from muscle so the stalker could eat you bit by bit as you watched, could make you eat parts of yourself and Virgil _couldn't stop the train of thought what was happening._

What would it feel like having his legs cut off? Having the stump cauterized and being left there as the invader cooked them in the kitchen with fancy spices. Smelling the meat and thinking for a fevered second that it smelled _good _before he realized, and the killer bringing it back in, unrecognizable, and he'd be so hungry he ate it anyway, sobbing and scared but it'll be worse if he didn't, wouldn't it, _things could always get worse_-

Bile welled up in his throat, and he choked it back, clutching his head and trying to think. The scene kept playing in his head, over and over again like a horror movie but getting more detailed each time. He thought he could taste the pepper and onions, could smell the cooking meat- thought he'd look down and find a burned-up bloody stump where his leg had been and-

"Anxiety," someone snapped, but Virgil couldn't parse the words, only shrank back from the sound. New grotesqueries unfolded as soon as he heard it: a disembodied voice box, the killer returned, a creature clawing up from someone's throat and stealing their words. Someone grabbed his wrist, and he screamed, tried to yank it back. Kept screaming. It was in his head, in his _head_ and he couldn't stop thinking about it and they were going to kill him, he'd die piece by raw bloody piece, he knew he would. "I definitely anticipated _this_," the same voice sighed, and then he was in open air.

Virgil doubled over and threw up, and felt the hand on his arm retreat in a hurry. His stomach emptied of all its contents, and he gasped, hugging himself and shaking, until his thoughts settled back into their familiar patterns. "Better?" Deceit asked sarcastically, and Virgil staggered up to snarl at him.

"What the _hell,_ Dee?You didn't tell me it would do _that!_"

"It always affects _me _to that extent," Deceit said, holding up his hands defensively. "How was I meant to know it would be the same for you?"

"Augh!" Virgil paced away from him, barely noting the green grass under his feet. "I can't believe this, I can still feel it in my _head..."_

"Come now, Anxiety, it can't have been _that _bad-"

**"I hallucinated eating my _own leg_," **Virgil almost shrieked.

Deceit faltered. "All right, that- that _is_ bad. Actually."

"No _shit_," Virgil hissed, and Deceit shrugged at him, eyes widened apologetically. 

"Just look on the bright side," he said, and Virgil glowered, because that was categorically impossible for him. "We _haven't _made it into the Imagination."

Virgil blinked, then took in their surroundings for the first time. Rolling green hills and pastures, bordered by misty blue mountains on one side and what looked like an entire medieval city on the other. There was a castle in the distance flying crimson banners. He looked up and saw bright blue skies, airbrushed with clouds, and the vastness of it made him stumble back. So much _space, _so much _light_... Was this how Thomas felt when he went outside? 

Was this how the _Light Sides_ felt?

"Does Creativity know we're here?" Virgil asked, suddenly nervous. Sure, it looked nice and relaxing and warm, but what if it was like a Venus fly trap? Sweetness to draw them in until they were trapped, and then Creativity could pick them off at his leisure...

"Who knows?" Deceit said. "I _wouldn't_ suggest that we take cover before we find out." He motioned to the trees at the end of the pasture. "I don't believe he'll see us in there as easily as in an open field, for instance. If you're willing to cooperate?"

"Fat chance," Virgil huffed, crossing his arms- but he followed Deceit anyway, through the pasture and down into the cover of the forest.


	4. Adventure Quest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Banditry!

Virgil reveled in the outdoors for about eight minutes; then a beetle landed on his face, he screamed and toppled into a ditch, and Deceit fell over howling with laughter. Virgil stayed on the ground, staring resignedly up at the sky, and said, “I’ve changed my mind. _Fuck _nature.”

Deceit wiped his eyes. “And here I conceived of you as a _consummate _outdoorsman. Wandering the forests like a wraith and leading the unsuspecting to their deaths. It would certainly match your aesthetic.”

”Is that actually what you think hikers do,” Virgil groaned. “I thought they just broke their ankles and got eaten by bears.”

”Optimistic as always.” Deceit pulled him to his feet, and Virgil banished the mud from his clothes, grimacing. “Come on. We have another few hours of travel at least.”

”We’re going to die,” Virgil said gloomily. 

The Imagination was _huge. _Virgil had thought it was like a green screen or a diorama, the mountains in the background just colorful scenery, but he was rapidly coming to the realization that the landscape was _actually_ that big. The forest wasn’t anything like he’d thought it’d be, either, as much as he’d thought of it at all: it was thick with brambles, canopy so dark he had to resort to night vision, and it felt like eyes were watching them as they traveled. “Are you sure Creativity doesn’t know we’re here?” he asked nervously, and Deceit rolled his eyes.

”Strangely enough, I haven’t come across the answer to that question since five minutes ago, when you last asked it.” He scowled as a thorn bush caught at his cape and bundled the garment up in his hands. Virgil snickered, and Deceit said with an air of vengeance, “It’s probably just the monsters Creativity keeps to populate his domain. _Do_ keep up, by the way.”

Wait. “Monsters?” Virgil didn’t squeak, and definitely didn’t glance around at the trees like he might see a reflection of eyes. “You didn’t mention— oh, fuck you, you’re just messing with me, aren’t you?” Deceit tossed him a piece of snakeskin with scales the size of dinner plates, and Virgil found himself suddenly on the other Side’s heels. “They’re going to eat us,” he predicted, teeth on edge. “They’re going to eat us, that’s his security system, _why did you agree to this._”

“Calm down,” Deceit sighed.

”_You_ calm down.”

An owl hooted somewhere above them, and Virgil jumped halfway out of his skin. Deceit startled, too, then smoothed down his clothes surreptitiously and said, “I found myself agreeing with Rand’s philosophy in her magnum opus.”

“Which part?” Virgil snapped, “The _being poor is your fault _or the part where regulations are immediately fascism?”

”Both, of course. I quite like a good rat in my hot dogs.”

”I don’t need to know about your sex life.”

Deceit stopped in place, looking flabbergasted. The human half of his face pinked. ”What do you think I _do _with Remus?”

”Look, you’re the one who brought him up, not me."

”You-" Deceit dragged a hand over his face. "Can we get to the point?”

”You mean how we’re in the middle of a death trap that’s probably going to keep us for a thousand years?” Virgil asked hysterically. “Also no, Ayn Rand is terrible and that whole book was stupid, I think I burned it after I read it.” Actually he'd torn it up and flushed it down the toilet page by page, which had been incredibly cathartic and which he planned to repeat with any other stupid shit he found, but he'd _planned_ to burn it; he'd just gotten sidetracked at the possibility of a fire destroying his entire room.

He didn't even have a smoke alarm. What if some spark hung on and caught while he was asleep and he woke up to flames all around him and burned alive? Did he want to risk that? Yeah, didn't _think _so.

Deceit rolled his eyes. "I mean the point where we're meant to poke another hole in the Imagination." 

"Yeah, I was thinking about that, and I don't think Remus needs any more holes. He does enough with the ones that he _has_."

A snicker. "_Now_ who's talking about the Duke's sex life?"

"You were there in the room with me. You _saw_." 

"Thanks ever so much for reminding me."

Virgil kicked a rock off the path and watched warily when it landed, worried that he'd somehow scare up a snake and make it bite him. A snakebite would hurt, right? It had definitely hurt when _Deceit _bit him. He wondered if Deceit would be able to talk to a snake. "This is kind of a weird question, but... can you talk to snakes?"

The other Side paused like he was deep in thought. Then he turned to Virgil with his hands spread, like a patronizing teacher, and said, "As a matter of fact, _yes!_ Your instinct is exactly right, Anxiety. I'm _just_ like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Virgil drawled, "A creepy zombie baby?"

"_Precisely_."

As they'd been talking, the forest had gotten darker, feeling more like home with every step. The birdsong got muffled and distant, and the trees grew warped and dark, shadows throwing faces onto their bark. More than once, Virgil looked into the branches and met gleaming eyes staring back; the first time it happened he hissed on instinct, bristling and terrified, and the eyes disappeared in a flurry of movement, and after that Deceit insisted he hiss at _every_ movement, just in case it happened to be frightened of him. The sarcasm was thick enough to cut with a knife. 

"How exactly are we supposed to do this, again?" Virgil finally complained, when it seemed like they'd been wandering the dark forest for hours. Deceit had a habit of not telling him things, only giving instructions and expecting them to be followed, like Virgil could even improvise without knowing what the fuck was going on. 

"Simple," Deceit said like the liar he was. "We're going to distract Creativity while Remus takes back some control."

Virgil stopped walking. To some it might have seemed like a choice, but he knew better; his feet were rooted to the ground, fear and trusty obstinacy keeping him in place. Keeping him away from the _horribly blatant danger _that they were both walking into. "Like," Virgil started, tentative like someone rooting around for a bad tooth, "in person?"

"We'll be shapeshifted, of course. _Both_ of us." Deceit had that tone that meant _I'm persuading you and you're being persuaded, Anxiety, what was our agreement again?_ Virgil hated that tone on principle. "There won't be any danger."

"Except for the sword-wielding Light Side whose territory we're trespassing in," Virgil whisper-hissed. They'd been heading _toward _Creativity the whole time? He could have heard them coming _ages _ago. He could have set up an ambush! He could be ambushing them _right then!_ "What are we even doing?"

"Playing NPC's," Deceit said lightly. "Do keep up.” His eyes glinted evilly, or at least in a way Deceit liked to pretend was evil. “We’re going to be _bandits_.”

*

Virgil glanced down at the worn black leather armor, then to the chipped sword in his hands. Its edges were lined with rust. Deceit had had to help him drag it loose from the brambles they'd found it in. Deceit, meanwhile, had found a couple of old knives in the hands of a skeleton and pried them loose. "It's like holding tetanus in its purest form. Is this even legal?"

"You seem to have forgotten the meaning of _bandit, _Anxiety. Shall I remind you that we're supposed to be _criminals?"_

"Are we stupid criminals? 'Cause these are stupid weapons. They're going to break."

"Oh, sure, because we're going to outright attack him. That's _so_ my style." Deceit pulled on his own leather armor- his summoning skills could have gotten them proper weapons, too, but he wanted to look 'authentic' or whatever- and swished his cape over his shoulder, then pulled his mask up to cover the lower half of his face. His skin shifted darker, scales rippling away and eyes brightening to matching shades of blue. He reached for Virgil, who jerked back. "Are you shapeshifting yourself or not, Anxiety?"

"You know I hate shapeshifting," Virgil snapped. "It feels weird. I'm not doing it." It didn't help that he was barely able to shapeshift himself, so he had to rely on other Sides to be nice and turn him back when he asked. He _hated_ unnecessary risks.

Deceit growled and tossed him a dark cloth. "Put that over your nose and mouth, then. And _cover your hair."_

Virgil did as he said. Then he caught sight of his distorted reflection in his sword and asked, "So, what, we're _anarchist_ bandits?"

"Anarcho-syndicalists," Deceit said, grinning darkly. Virgil knew that look: it was the look Deceit got when he was about to bullshit the _hell_ out of something. It was wicked, mischievous glee, and it calmed the dread gathering in Virgil's gut. Human mob instinct, useful but dangerous: if one person wasn't scared, the others didn't have to be either, right? "We disagree with the very concept of the monarchy! In fact, we're accosting traders specifically to draw the prince... into an ambush! I daresay _that _will distract him enough to pull his mind off shoring up his defenses."

"Or get us killed," Virgil couldn't help pointing out, but he could feel his mouth trying to smile. 

They scouted out a good ambush spot, shadowy from a heavy canopy and boxed in with boulders on either side of the path. Any travelers would have to squeeze their carts between with barely any room for mistakes, and they wouldn't be able to see past the turn at all. Perfect, according to Deceit. Perfect for _what, _was what Virgil wanted to know. He could see wheel tracks in the dirt of the path. People would come by. The only question was when, and every moment Virgil didn't know the plan was a moment they could be caught off guard. "What's the plan again? You said we're not outright attacking them, so what are we actually doing? I _really_ don't want to stab anyone."

"That's a shame," Deceit said. "I would have thought you'd enjoy being on the other end for once."

"I _enjoy _not getting close to knives in the first place," Virgil said, annoyed. "Are you telling me the plan or not?"

"Not," Deceit said immediately, then grinned when Virgil hissed. "Make the shadows darker. I'm going to ensure that today's banditry is as bloodless as possible." 

An hour passed before the first caravans came down the path. The first was piled high with logs and ducks and rabbits in wooden cages; the second with _cabbages_ of all things. Virgil made a face. Vegetables. _Gross_.

The third caravan carried barrels of produce and strings of fish, with a few crates of what looked like cloth near the sides. _Jackpot._ Deceit snapped his fingers, and below them the third wagon jolted, one of the wheels dipping into mud and sticking there. The NPC's cursed and kicked the wagon, urging the horse forward, but it couldn't pull the wheel free. After a moment, they started stomping around and glaring uncertainly at the shadows; Virgil snickered to himself and made the shadows darker to watch them jump. 

The first two wagons continued on, oblivious. Virgil looked to Deceit for his next move, and the other Side gestured down at the men and mouthed, _"Distract them."_

Virgil nodded and dropped to the ground, and the shadows hid him perfectly. He breathed out, quiet like he was trying to avoid Rage's notice, and gradually darkened the forest until it was black as night. The NPC's shouted in alarm.

"It's night! The sun is down!"

"But we haven't reached Hulbury!"

"The sun is down!" 

"Press B to jump," Virgil mocked under his breath, then held out his hands and focused until a faint blue light flickered into his palms. He cleared his throat and called out, "What are you doing all the way out here at night? You're nowhere close to Hulbury!" 

The NPC's all jumped, obviously startled. One of them drew a knife and shouted, "You there! Why do you cover your face?"

What the fuck, they were _so dumb. _Virgil smothered a laugh and said darkly, "It's a skin condition. _Stop judging me."_

"Oh." The NPC paused. "I'm sorry! I did not mean to offend!"

"It's cool," Virgil said, trying not to giggle. Giggling was the opposite of edgy. Unlike these stupid assholes, Virgil had _dignity, _and that meant no giggling. "Do you know the way to Hulbury, in this darkness?"

"We do not, good citizen!"

"I'll show the way," Virgil said, softer, with a grin that didn't show past his mask. "All you have to do is follow this light." He breathed, and the ember in his palms intensified to a pale electric blue. Knife Dude gasped as he willed it into the air to float.

"But the cart," one of the men said, showing the first hint of critical thinking Virgil had seen all day. Too bad it couldn't last.

"It'll be here in the morning," Virgil promised. "You should get yourselves somewhere safe and come back for it. There's a lot of _creepy_ things lurking in this forest at night."

"Ah! Yes, like the manticore-chimeras and skull griffins! Quite terrible beasts." 

"Y-yeah," Virgil didn't squeak. "Like those. So you should go. _Now_."

The NPC's hesitated, glancing at the cart and horse and around at the dark trees. Virgil made the shadows shift and growl, black shapes twisting just out of sight; the men clustered closer together and brandished their weapons. "Perhaps that would be wise," Knife Dude said, and just like that the other NPC's were nodding and murmuring agreement, unlatching the horse from the wagon.

Virgil brightened the ember even more, a beacon in the dark, and said, "It shouldn't be far now," in his most careful tone. Fuck, now he was starting to feel bad. At least it wasn't actually night, right? So they'd just wander and find daylight again. Not a big deal, except for how he and Deceit were _stealing their stuff. _"Just... be careful, okay?"

"We will do so," Knife Dude said, and clapped him on the shoulder. Virgil barely stopped himself from snarling in surprise. "Get to safety yourself, good citizen!"

"Will do," Virgil said weakly, and the men tromped past him to follow the wisp, entirely on the word of a stranger whose face they hadn't seen. They weren't real, Virgil reminded himself, and this was a fairy-tale kingdom. They'd be fine. No way Thomas' main Creativity wouldn't ensure happy endings. 

Unless he only cared about them for main characters. Virgil shivered and gazed after them, at the dark patch of forest where they'd disappeared. Not his circus, not his monkeys, but what if they _died _and could feel pain, what if they wouldn't even come back? 

He looked up at the trees, but Deceit had already disappeared- probably to figure out where they were moving the cart in the first place. No one to glare and stop him from making stupid choices. Just Virgil, and a group of randos he might technically have led to their randomly-generated deaths. 

... Maybe Deceit wouldn't mind if Virgil was gone for a tiny bit longer than necessary.

*

"And where have you been?" Deceit asked incredulously when Virgil limped back. Virgil crossed his arms and glared, face burning; his entire body felt like it'd been punctured by every damn bramble in the forest, and the skin around one of his eyes had already started to bruise. He'd have a real shiner by tomorrow. "Don't tell me they _actually _fought back."

"All right, then, I _won't_ tell you," Virgil snapped, because pretending he'd gotten jumped was less embarrassing than relaying how he'd thought he saw a manticore-whatever and had tried to stab a tree. The NPC's hadn't even noticed him get attacked by the owl. 

They'd gotten to safety, though. Virgil had followed them until they found another path, and by then it had actually been nightfall. They'd seen village lights in the distance and had gone running. Virgil, meanwhile, had been picking feathers out of his hair. At least he'd gotten them all before he'd returned. "Is that a feather on your shoulder?" Deceit asked, looking way too close to laughing.

"Oh, wow, yeah, it must have come from this bird," Virgil said, and flipped him off. Deceit didn't even give him the dignity of returning the gesture. 

Deceit had sequestered their ill-gotten gains in a little clearing off the path and was reclining on one of the closed barrels, languid like a sunning snake. He'd dropped his disguise completely. "Are we actually going to eat any of this?" Virgil demanded, thoroughly sick of life.

Deceit eyed him with annoyance. "I _don't _suppose we might as well." He added vindictively, "By the way, this totally isn't yours now," and dropped a wooden cage in Virgil's lap. Virgil yelped, jumping up and scrambling away from it. Something screeched and flapped inside.

"_What _did you just give me."

"_Not_ a chicken," Deceit said with a showy shrug, turning away. "I thought we might kill it and eat it."

Virgil glared at his back and crept over to the cage, unlatching it and flipping the lid back in case the bird was as aggressive as owls. It fluttered up onto the edge of the box, orange-brown and ruffled, and fell to the ground with a lopsided flap of its wings. 

Virgil hesitantly scooped a handful of kernels out of one of the barrels and scattered them on the ground, and the chicken rounded on them immediately, pecking at grains like its life depended on it. Its beak, Virgil noted with some distress, could probably tear through his skin as easily as that owl's had torn through the leather on his arm. Were chickens likely to attack? What if it pecked him and it got infected and he _died? _Oh, god, it was going to finish the owl's job for it, Virgil could already tell. 

Beady eyes regarded him, as dead and heartless as those of a shark.Virgil moved farther away. "I think I'd rather eat the fish."

"Pathetic," Deceit said halfheartedly, arranging rocks in a circle in the center of the clearing. Virgil cast another nervous glance at the chicken- what if something came up and took it, it hadn't attacked him _yet _so did it really deserve to die?- and awkwardly herded it towards the fire, skittering back every time it turned his way. It clucked at Deceit, making _him_ hiss on reflex for once, and Virgil dodged his glare to start scooping up smaller rocks to patch holes in the fire pit. He was _not_ starting a forest fire that would devour them all and make them wake up in the dead of night, burning alive. Not even the chicken deserved that fate. "I'm _so_ happy you made me wait till nightfall before you came back, Anxiety. That was really considerate of you." 

"You could've started eating without me," Virgil pointed out defensively. "Not like you actually _had_ to wait."

"I didn't feel like doing grunt work," Deceit said blithely. "Gather firewood, won't you? Or don't- I know you aren't usually any use in these situations-"

"Try me," Virgil hissed, because _fuck off, Dee, _but he tromped to the edges of the clearing to drag a few branches over and break them into smaller pieces. He even jumped on a bunch of larger branches to break them up, spurred solely by spite. Served Deceit right for calling him _useless. _What a dick. "Why does anyone _like_ camping?"

"Masochism," Deceit suggested, and Virgil snorted. "A plant fetish. Murder." Virgil deposited the firewood in the makeshift circle, and Deceit pulled a lighter out of his sleeve. The fire flickered slowly to life. Virgil backed out of the range of its sparks and scattered a few more grains to keep the chicken away from the dark trees. Its brain was the size of a grape. He didn't trust it not to go wandering off. 

Virgil looked at the dull-eyed string of fish and came to a slow realization. "Deceit, do you know how to cook fish?" 

"I was hoping you'd know," Deceit said, apparently startled into truth-telling. They both stared at the fish for another long moment, and then Virgil grabbed the whole string and tossed it as far into the woods as he could manage, taking care of it like he did most of his problems. Deceit dragged a hand across his face. "Right. Is there anything we _do _know how to make?"

They ended up workshopping kebabs, roasting potatoes over the fire and eating fruit with their fingers. Virgil fucked up and dropped an entire apple into the fire, then screamed when it rolled toward him _on fire_ and scrambled backwards. Deceit stomped it out and grimaced at the mush on his boots. "_Ugh_," he said with feeling. "Perhaps next time- _here's_ a novel thought- you could run toward a problem instead of away from it."

"I'm not dying from _apple_ burns," Virgil said, glaring. He'd deposited the chicken back in her crate and was hiding next to her, trying to get her to sniff his hand or something. Did birds have a sense of smell? Fuck if he knew. "Should we get sleep? Like, if we're doing a bunch of shit later."

Deceit shrugged. "I won't take first watch," he offered, and Virgil gave him a thumbs-up. "We've got about six hours."

"And then what?" Virgil asked, morbidly curious. "Since, you know, we haven't really done anything yet."

"Oh, ye of little faith," Deceit sighed, more than a little patronizing. "This one cart is only the beginning-"

"Of what, our _farm wagon_ empire-"

"Of the chain of events I _haven't_ masterminded," Deceit said acidly, "which will lead to our eventual success."

Virgil eyed the dying fire uncertainly. "So we're _not_ gonna be here just a few hours."

"Anxiety, please. A few _days_ is hardly an imposition. How else would you have spent them, holed up in your room?"

Virgil threw up his hands. "Yeah! Yeah, I _would."_

"Should've thought of that before you signed on," Deceit said airily. "Are you sleeping or not?"

"Your _mom _is sleeping," Virgil muttered, dragging a blanket from the cart and flopping it down on the ground. He was going to be eaten alive by ants, he could already tell. "Don't let the chicken near me."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he heard Deceit say, but he wasn't about to respond; instead, he flipped the corner of the blanket over his face and forced himself asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: writing this chapter is what inspired the whole plot of "Thief in the Night."
> 
> Also this chapter annoys me, but it's necessary for what happens next, so whatever. Be warned: this will be a long fic.


	5. Candy Store

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life really _is_ like a piñata.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings for this chapter, except maybe questionable chicken husbandry.
> 
> Posted late, so edits for flow may occur.

Virgil woke to sunlight on his face, brighter than anything he'd grown up with; he stifled a groan and lurched upright, brushing the dirt out of his eyes, and glared daggers at Deceit. The other Side, leaned against a tree trunk, widened his eyes mockingly. "Finally awake, Anxiety? And here I thought you slept in on Sundays."

"It's Tuesday," Virgil grumbled, because it _was, _Thomas had a presentation in Social Studies today and Virgil had had to make sure he was properly nervous about it. "Weren't we supposed to take turns keeping watch?" He stood up and stretched, joints popping, and grimaced at the stiffness of his back. Sleeping on the ground was even less comfortable than advertised.

"You looked so angelic, I couldn't stand to wake you," Deceit said, getting to his feet and brushing off his clothes. "You talk in your sleep, you know. Last night, you informed me of your fervent wish to frolic with Princess Lolly in Candyland."

"I guarantee that's not true," Virgil said. Lord Licorice was cooler.

Deceit gasped, putting a hand to his chest. "Anxiety!" he asked, aghast. "Would I lie to you?"

"Do you really need me to answer that?"

"You know I _love_ seeking second opinions," Deceit said slyly. "_Am_ I Deceit? Am I a Side at all? Perhaps we're both demons who attempted to possess the same person at the same time and had our memories erased by his latent psychic abilities. Perhaps we're actually kings of Hell."

"The other day I fell off the bed and gave myself a black eye because I thought a shadow on the wall was Freddy Krueger," Virgil said ruefully. "So, y'know. I'd be a pretty shitty demon."

"Freddy Krueger could be a stronger demon," Deceit suggested, then swore and jumped sideways. Virgil jumped, too, then noticed the chicken dogging his heels with a flood of relief. "Come get your well-mannered friend, Anxiety. I'm _loving _her company." The chicken pecked his ankle again, and he bared his teeth at it, looking so much like a ruffled cat that Virgil had to snicker. "Oh, shut up."

"I'm Anxiety, laughing at misfortune is what I do." Virgil edged over to the wagon and grabbed a blanket. No way he wasn't getting attacked for this, but if they were leaving for a while... "Are we coming back here?"

"Definitely not." Deceit watched him sneak up behind the chicken with obvious interest. "I had no idea you were such a dedicated farmboy, Anxiety."

_Yeah, yeah, laugh it up._ Virgil crept forward and lunged, wrapping the chicken's wings like a burrito; it flapped and squawked, more alarmed than Virgil had ever heard it, and he loosened his grip- "You moron, it's _lying!"_

Virgil hastily recaptured the chicken. It glared at him with its beady dinosaur eyes. "The _chicken_ is lying?" Virgil repeated. "What, like it's plotting chicken crimes-"

"It was _totally_ injured," Deceit snapped, face pink, "and you _shouldn't_ hurry up. We're losing daylight."

"Whatever." Virgil put the chicken back in its crate, jumping when it turned on him. He tossed grain in with it so it wouldn't starve. That was how you kept chickens, right? Virgil wasn't sure Thomas had ever met a chicken. It puffed its wings at him. He decided Thomas never _should _meet a chicken, in case it killed him. Death by poultry was starting to seem like a distinct possibility. "What are we even doing today?"

"Obstructing trade routes and making ourselves out to be villains, if all goes well." Deceit looked distracted; he was moving his lips, plotting like a B-grade movie villain, and his face was shifting back to the fake-bandit form. "_Don't_ cover your face again, will you?"

Virgil grumbled and pulled the cloth back over his nose.

The forest was teeming with birdsong. Outside of their clearing, they couldn't go five feet without running into a skittish deer, or a skunk with three little baby skunks trundling after it like boxcars, or a mysterious cottage with candy for exterior decor. "That's a trap," Virgil said at the sight of it, but the foreboding didn't stop his mouth from watering.

"It's Hansel and Gretel, of course it is," Deceit snorted. Virgil, who'd forgotten the name of the fairy tale, glared at him. "The wisest course of action would be to avoid it entirely."

They hid in the trees and watched for signs of life. Giant gumdrops bordered the pathway to the door, surrounded by a cottage garden of fondant violets and buttercream hollyhocks; the roof was iced gingerbread, the window box filled with sculpted chocolate flowers, the doorknob a sphere of misshapen cookie. Virgil worried his lip and tried to convince himself it wasn't worth it. It was definitely a trap. Creativity knew they were here and wanted to lure them in, and for all they knew the candy was poisoned. He was supposed to be the voice of caution, and anyway a first grader could see the ways this could go horribly wrong.

The breeze carried the smell of chocolate and cake in their direction. Virgil's will failed him. "I'm gonna take the flowers."

Deceit said immediately, "I'll distract," and handed him a burlap sack. "Don't let the inhabitant see you. We want some element of surprise." Virgil winced. Getting disemboweled or eaten alive by a cannibalistic hag was the last thing on his wish list. Or rather, it wasn't on his wish list at all, because only an idiot would wish for that.

Deceit shifted again, getting shorter and paler, until he was a little girl with bright blue eyes and searingly blonde hair, all decked out in pigtails and a cutesy pink dress. The whole outfit screamed _prep; _Virgil inched away in case it was catching. "Seriously?" he hissed. "You look like a Cabbage Patch Kid."

"Nonsense, I haven't caused _any_ riots at Walmart so far." Deceit's voice was high and childish. He blinked up at Virgil with wide, innocent eyes, and Virgil felt the sudden, bizarre urge to scoop him up and scan for threats. He was too small. What if a wolf came out of the woods and got him? What if the _witch _did? Would he even be able to turn back in time or would he just die in agony, caught in a moment of weakness because Virgil wanted some fucking _sweets- _"Oh, do keep panicking," Deceit snapped. "I definitely want to babysit you through _another _anxiety attack."

"I'm not the toddler here, Snakeface," Virgil said, stupidly hurt. "Just. Try not to get tricked into cleaning any ovens."

"I'll follow every possible cliche," Deceit promised, and Virgil stalked away toward the back of the house. The sun was obnoxiously bright overhead, but since it was early morning the house cast a deep shadow over the ground. Virgil crouched in the licorice-string grass, nibbled a strand and making a face- ugh, that wasn't even sweet- and did his best to blend in.

He was Anxiety. He knew how to stay unseen.

It didn't stop his heart from jumping into his throat when Deceit trotted down the path.

He was holding a bundle of flowers like he'd wandered off-route to pick whatever was prettiest ; he saw the cottage and paused, widening his eyes in wonder at the new distraction. The performance meant he thought whoever was there was already watching; Virgil hunched down further, coiled and ready to spring into a run.

Just had to get some candy off the sides. Easy peasy. The worst case scenario could probably be avoided, because they were both sane, cautious Dark Sides who didn't venture into main Sides' territory for stupid favors.

Who was Virgil kidding, there was _no way _this was going to go well.

Deceit wavered on the path for a while, biting his lip like he was weighing risks. He squared his shoulders and marched to the door, raising a hand to knock, but the door clicked and swung open before he could.

Virgil stopped breathing. He hadn't actually expected the witch to be home. What if she'd seen them before and was luring them in, only pretending to be fooled? What if she was aching to kill a Side, or was an extra layer of defense for Creativity to catch any Dark Sides that managed to crawl into the light? Was Deceit fast enough, could he change back to a defensible form before the witch came at him _claws bared-_

"Why, hello, dearie," came a sweet, wavering voice. Virgil glimpsed fuzzy blue slippers and wrinkled his nose. The witch was really going all out with the old lady thing, huh. "What brings such a lovely little girl to my doorstep? Have you lost your way?" Deceit nodded, adding in a sniffle for good measure. The witch's voice said, coaxing, "If you come in, I could give you refreshments and send you on your way. I know the area rather well."

Virgil couldn't see the witch, but he could see Deceit, so he saw the flicker of incredulity as Deceit registered the red flags and chose to ignore them. _Come into my van, it's made of candy! _His skin must've been itching at the lies. "Mama says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," he said, clutching his flowers tighter. His eyes flicked in Virgil's general direction, and Virgil took it for the signal it was; he started plucking flowers from the window box. Then, because the dirt was brown mini-M&Ms, he started trying to unhook the box so he could shove it in the sack, too.

"But my dear, I'm not a stranger!" the witch gasped. Deceit sneezed to cover the sound of clattering M&Ms. "You couldn't know the name of a stranger, but now you can know my name is Dorcas. What's yours?"

"Mary," Deceit mumbled. Virgil pried the window box free. "Is your whole house candy?"

"It is," Dorcas said warmly. "Would you like some?" Deceit nodded. "If you're a guest of mine, you can have all the candy you like. All _you_ have to do is come inside! Won't that be a treat?"

Deceit made a show of reluctance. Virgil vibrated in place, trying to telepathically urge him to quit while they were ahead, but he could already see the car crash in action; the lure of pulling one over a witch was dragging Deceit in. "Are you sure you're not a stranger?" he asked plaintively, and Virgil glared as hard as he could. Mission accomplished, asshole, time to _abort_-

"_Dead_ sure," Dorcas said, smile in her voice, and Deceit's expression changed again.

He stepped back, thin shoulders going stiff, and said, "Actually, um, my Mama's waiting for me-"

But the witch had already grabbed his wrist. "You're dreadfully skinny, dear," she said, and Virgil crept closer, willing Deceit to shift and yank out of her grip. "Won't you please come in?"

Deceit looked pale; Virgil could tell the grip was hard enough to bruise. He smiled anyway, gap-toothed. "Okay!" he chirped, like a stupid kid who still didn't get the danger he was in, but the hag didn't seem fooled; she pulled him in and closed the door behind them, and Virgil heard the _click_ of a lock.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck. _Virgil dropped the sack and ran around the back, trying to see through the sugar-glass windows, but they were too clouded. Finally he snarled under his breath and kicked one of the back windows in, dislodging the panes and sculpted-chocolate frame and wriggling through.

He ended up in what had to be the witch's bedroom, just as confection-themed as the outside of her house. There was a quilt of fruit tape on a chocolate bed, with Neapolitan taffy pillows and a rock candy lamp. The walls were papered with peppermint bark, and across from the door was a white chocolate vanity, lined with gumdrops. The carpet was cotton candy.

Virgil hated the Imagination so much. At least threats actually _looked_ like threats in the Dark Side.

He grabbed the rock candy lamp and tiptoed to the door, nudging it open with a foot. Deceit's high voice rang out from an adjoining room. "Can I have candy now?"

"Soon, dearie, very soon." The witch's voice was way too close. Virgil froze, willing himself into the shadows, and she tottered into view, placing a hard-candy teacup and saucer in front of Deceit. The other Side was perched at the table, feet hanging over the floor and hands in his lap. "Won't you drink this for me? It'll warm you right up."

"I'm not cold," Deceit said with a shake of his head. "And Mama says you have to take tea together. It's rude if it's just me."

"It's impolite to be so willful, young lady." Deceit pressed his lips shut, looking away, and Dorcas sighed indulgently. "But, if you insist. I'll get myself a cup." She returned with her own saucer, sitting across from Deceit and looking at him expectantly. "Well?"

Virgil hefted the lamp, preparing to scoop up Deceit and make a run for it. Deceit chirped, "Now we have to play the tea game!"

The fucking what? "I beg your pardon?"

"The tea game," Deceit said more slowly. "It's where you ask three riddles, and if the other person gets one wrong they have to drink from your cup. Mama made it up 'cause I always drink when the temperature's too high." Real believable vocabulary there, Dee. "If the person gets all three right, you have to drink from your _own _cup."

Dorcas's face was pinched, but then it broadened into a smile. "Very well, then. Would you like to go first?"

"You should," Deceit said firmly. "The adult has to go first. It's the _rules."_

He was stalling. What was he stalling for, did he expect Virgil to rush in and save him? Virgil hefted the lamp, but then it hit him, too, distant like the air changing before a storm. A hint of _power _like a burned-clean version of Remus, making the birdsong sweeter and the air fresher, brighter, more full of possibility- and coming _closer_.

"If you want," Dorcas said, sounding less than pleased. "If eleven plus two equals one, what is nine plus five?"

Virgil froze. Eleven plus two _wasn't_ one, right? It was thirteen. That was how math worked. Unless it _wasn't _how math worked, and Thomas had been wrong this whole time and soon he'd get his grades back and they'd all be _zero _and he'd have to repeat the year and _his parents would hate him-_

"Two," Deceit said smugly. "It's a clock." Virgil's burgeoning panic attack collapsed to embarrassed relief. "Next one!"

The witch grit her teeth. "What is it that, given one, you'll have either two or none?"

Deceit tilted his head. Virgil felt the _not-Remus _like a cloud over the sun, except instead of making the world darker it made it colorful instead, like turning up the saturation on a picture. "Can I have a moment to think about it?"

"Only a moment," the witch said indulgently, and the sunlight started to sparkle. Virgil desperately repressed his growing panic.

"A choice." Deceit wriggled like he was impatient. "What's the third riddle? I wanna drink my tea."

"You will, soon," the witch said. "Riddle me this: my thunder comes before my lightning-"

The saturation hit a fever pitch. Deceit scrambled out of his chair and screamed, "Help, help me, I'm in here she's gonna _eat_ me!"

Virgil jolted back, adrenaline hitting like a punch to the face- the witch snarled, leaping to her feet and revealing rows and rows of razor teeth- and the door exploded in. "Candy Witch!" a voice proclaimed, and Virgil was horrified to realize that Deceit's impression had been completely accurate. "What foul deeds are you attempting _now?"_

_"Prince," _the witch hissed, eyes going poisonous pink. Virgil pressed himself against the wall, mentally begging Deceit to run towards him so they could flee through the window, but the other Side ran to Creativity instead and hid behind him. Typical. "How dare you intrude upon my domain? I have a _guest!"_

Virgil darkened the shadows, trying to catch Deceit's eye, but he shook his head sharply and gestured to the house. Was he _kidding. _"Your guest doesn't seem to enjoy your hospitality," Creativity said, drawing his sword. "Likely because it includes being eaten alive! How dare _you_ lure children with your delectable dwelling!"

The voice impression might've been spot on, but Deceit hadn't captured the important details; Creativity had bright sparkling eyes and moved like he was dancing, like every step was choreographed and _he _was the star. The sun through the doorway focused in on him like a spotlight, like he was the centerpiece of a Renaissance painting, the hallowed muse of a famous artist.

Virgil had never seen anyone like him. "She entered willingly," the witch snarled, "sat at my table-"

"You made me come in!" Deceit protested, voice high and scared. "I just wanted to pick flowers!"

The witch shrieked and lunged at him, but Creativity stepped between, raising a hand. "There's no need to fight," he said, though the excited flush in his face suggested that he really, really wanted to. "We can resolve this peacefully, if you like. Let the child go, and all will be forgotten."

"I forget _nothing!" _the witch shrieked, and her next lunge was claws-first, faster than Virgil could see-

Creativity's sword was faster. Dorcas screamed and exploded, thousands of tiny projectiles scattering through the air, and Virgil jerked back and covered his head, expecting fire or blood or _acid, _who the fuck knew.

Then he looked down and realized they were Skittles. Jesus _Christ._

"Are you all right, little girl?" Creativity asked, and Deceit nodded shyly. "Splendid! From whence do you hail? Lamppost Town? Kakariko Village?"

"Lamppost," Deceit mumbled, then glanced at Virgil, eye flashing yellow, and burst into noisy tears. Virgil could _feel _Creativity panic.

"What- augh, no, there's no need to cry, you've _been_ saved-" Deceit kept bawling, and Virgil inched back, taking advantage of the distraction. He was pretty sure he knew what Deceit wanted to do next.

Creativity wasn't about to hurt a little kid he thought lived in the Imagination, right? Even if all the people were NPC's, he still basically owned them. He wouldn't hurt Deceit if he kept up the disguise. At least, Virgil really hoped he wouldn't- but he had a job to do either way, and Dee would be pissed if he didn't do it.

He went back to the bedroom, checking every few minutes to make sure the witch hadn't reformed, and stole everything he could carry.

Then he ate a chocolate flower, because he _deserved_ it for having to break into a candy house in the first place, and went to find his ally.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
